


Medicine

by TheSouthernFalconer



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Addiction, Coughing, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Female Character of Color, Fluff and Angst, Healthy Relationships, Late Night Conversations, Past Injury, Pet Names, Post-Canon, Recovery, References to Illness, Self-Indulgent, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:34:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26156575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSouthernFalconer/pseuds/TheSouthernFalconer
Summary: “You’re in pain, my darling.” He said simply, his thumbs still tracing her high cheekbones. “You’re in pain, and afraid, and you’re crying.” Damp grey eyes sought hers, his head dipping to catch her gaze. “And I love you, and I would do anything in my power to make it better.”Nurlan struggles to kick a habit, and Julian is The Best Husband.
Relationships: Apprentice/Julian Devorak
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31





	Medicine

The cough again. The damned disgusting, horrid fucking cough that she _knew_ was part of the deal, part of not listening to anyone who loved her who told her, begged her, demanded her, scolded her- to quit. And she’d been trying, honest, she’d been trying to cut down and reel back and chew edible _gum_ and mint leaves to drive the craving away- it lasts for two days before the itch comes back with a vengeance. Before she decides, fuck it, she _didn’t_ have to suffer that pointless agony for the sake of her lungs. She had several excuses, all of them boiling down to the simple fact that she _couldn’t, wouldn’t,_ function without the cigarettes. But then-inevitably, the cough.

Clawing up her throat, turning her lungs to fucking fibre, loud and hacking and dry and disgusting, her breath rattling up an ugly sound. The moment she felt it begin, Nurlan had rolled out of bed, out of Julian’s long arms, fumbled for her crutches, wheezing and trying to hold it till she could reach the living room, and then sank to the couch in a fit of furious coughs- one pushing up the other, burning her from the inside, tears smarting in the corners of her eyes, her whole body heaving with it. “Fuck,” she croaked, trying to get up from the couch for a glass of water, before another fit beat her to it, and she sank back down, her body shaking with the effort of sitting upright. She drew in a noisy breath, but it turned to another cough on the exhale, and she doubled over as she felt her sides cramp up. _Madeira_.

She tried to breathe, once, then twice, then failed, and her aching heart dropped when she realized she can’t. She thumped her fist against her chest and it only made her lurch forward, feeling something in her chest just _crack_ \- or maybe she imagined it- hot tears flowing down her face freely now. For one, horrible, frightening moment, she thought she was going to die. Here, on the couch, with Julian sleeping soundly in the room next to hers, too tired to be anything but dead to the world. Oh _Madeira_ , she should’ve quit. She should’ve quit, this isn’t worth it. She knew it wasn’t worth it, promised herself half heartedly that it wasn’t worth it whenever the cough returned, but then, but then-

“Julian,” she whimpered uselessly, rasping out an awfully painful breath. The coughing had subsided for a moment, but she knew it was going to return, could feel the burn deep in her throat reminding her that it wasn’t done. Nurlan dug the heels of her palms into her burning eyes, collapsing on to the couch. Bad move, it was harder to breathe like this. She sniffled with pain when she tried to heave herself back upright. Her back ached, her sides twisted up in knots, there was a vague taste of blood on the roof of her mouth, and her throat was on fire.

_Aida must’ve felt like this- when she had the plague. Even worse._

“Stop,” she balled her hand to a fist and knocked at her head. The plague wasn’t Aida’s fault. _This_ she could’ve stopped. This was her own doing. This was the comeuppance for every time she lied to her, to Julian too, her heart wrenching apart when he only fixed her with grey-eyed disappointment, when she’d snapped at Mama and Pa who were just- trying to make things right. She _knew_ it was for her own good but she couldn’t, not when the itch gets so strong that she’d only last till the night chill sets in and she’d cry into her pillow and beg and snap for a smoke. This was her fault. Oh _Madeira,_ if only she’d quit. Noone was asking her to starve to death, only stay off the cigarettes.

The coughing started again, kicking at her lungs, harder this time, grating and stinging. She was shaking so hard she knew she’d roll off the couch and land on the ground- Nurlan balled her fists in her hair, for purchase, for _something._ She remembered the look Ma wore when they’d fished Nurlan out of the heap of ruins down by the flooded district, the way she’d cried when she saw her mangled legs, the way she’d felt when she saw Aida strapped to the gurney down at the dungeons, too weak to do anything but spit up blood and stare at her- and now Julian would have to see that, _feel_ that, now she’d die because she didn’t-

Didn’t fucking _quit._

She thought she was going to throw up, and maybe she did, something saline coating her mouth but never making it out, before the coughing subsided back into an itch. There were a few seconds of silence, a few small gasps before she could take a whole breath in, her chest stuttering in protest. Her fingers twitched as she felt around blindly.

It took her two seconds to realize she was searching for her cigarettes again.

That did it.

Nurlan burst into loud, angry, _disgusted_ tears, digging her fingers into her hair again and not bothering to muffle them. She’d been coughing up what’s left of her lungs a moment ago and she was _still_ reaching for a smoke. She realized with a shock of horror that she still _wanted_ it too- the grey sweet relief of it in her mouth and throat, the way it hits her in that gentle, familiar way, the smell of tobacco smoke-

“You’re fucking stupid,” she cried to herself. She was. This was. Fear spread through her, so cold it made her shiver. She’d been so stupid, so selfish and stupid. She didn’t want to die, but she felt like she was going to- like all she _could_ do was go back, back, back to when she stole her first cigarette from Pa’s stash when she was fifteen, and _not_ do that, never do that. She sobbed into the couch, feeling the burn start again at the base of her throat, and oh _Madeira,_ oh _Madeira,_ she couldn’t, she couldn’t die, not when she was so happy, when Julian was so happy and beside her and everything was alright, _finally_ , she couldn’t die now but she would, because she was stupid and she was still aching, still _craving_ for a fucking smoke. She’d lost enough, Julian’s lost enough, and if only she could go back, she’d quit, she’ d quit-

“Nura!”

And now she’d woken him up.

She heard footsteps on the floorboard as Julian ran to sink down on the floor by the couch, anxious hands tugging at her own. “Nurlan, darling-“ she cried a little louder at the worry in his voice. She’d disappointed him- he never asked for anything but for her to be alright and now-

He was speaking again, low and afraid, but she couldn’t hear anything for a bit over the sound of her own terrified sobs. Firm, patient fingers were stroking at the vice tight grip she had on her own hair, coaxing them apart.

“-please let go, darling, you’re hurting yourself.”

She heard how his voice shook, edging over cracking, and she listened, like she should’ve. She should’ve listened to him when he told her to quit- he didn’t much, these days, maybe because she’d taken to sneaking out or smoking away from him. Away from him when he was only trying to fucking help. So she let go of her hair, wincing as her scalp stung, his hands softly, softly soothing over where she’d dug her nails in, sifting through black and yellow hair to inspect for damage, and then his arms wrapped around her, and he leaned his head against her shoulder. “I’m here,” he said, a hand smoothing down her back. “I’m right here, my love.”

Oh she _really_ didn’t want to die.

She started to cry again, but before a sob could rip through her, her breath hitched and turned into another cough, smaller this time, and another, and now she was _tired,_ her chest was sore and she was _mortified_ that she’d had to do this in front of him again, but it wouldn’t stop, and Julian murmured a noise of concern before maneuvering himself and with practiced hands, gently pulling her upright so she could breathe better. When she gasped for breath at the end of her spell, he knelt before her , rubbing her shoulders and taking her hands and giving her calm, clear instructions to breathe with nothing, _nothing_ but love and worry in his eyes. By the time she caught her breath, Nurlan couldn’t hold herself up anymore. He caught her, a pair of strong arms holding her steady and letting her lean against him so she wouldn’t fall over. She felt the burn settle down in her throat.

She stayed in his arms, figuring out how to breathe again. She could make out the anxious furrow in Julian’s brow. Nurlan wished he’d get angry. She knew he _could,_ she’d seen first hand how sharp his tongue could get when he let himself run with it. And though he’d never turned it around to her, not even when they fought, she wished he _did_ , just now. She’d deserved it. But he said nothing, not even an “I told you so,” and it only made her feel worse. She sniffled, the tears still running down her cheeks, and wiped her face on her sleeve. “Julian,” she groaned- _Madeira,_ she sounded horrible. “You’re allowed to be mad at me.”

“Nura,” he coaxed her to turn around, and Nurlan’s face crumpled again when she came face to face with concerned, anguished warm grey eyes. His auburn hair was as disheveled as his crumpled sleep shirt. “Oh love,” he cupped her face in his hands, wiping at the tear tracks on her face. “Dearest, why would I be?”

Nurlan swallowed hard, and she shook her head. “I-“ she cleared her throat. “I didn’t listen to you when you told me to cut down,” she averted her eyes, fixing the hem of her tunic with an angry lilac gaze. “You told me to, everyone told me to, and I didn’t listen, so it’s my fault that I have this stupid cough and-“

“ _Nurlan,_ ” Julian leaned forward to press his lips to her forehead, and then to her eyelids, as if to prove to her how ridiculous the notion was. “I’m not upset with you.”

“You should be,” she muttered, letting out a small, dejected sob. “I don’t know why you aren’t.”

“You’re in pain, my darling.” He said simply, his thumbs still tracing her high cheekbones. “You’re in pain, and afraid, and you’re crying.” Damp grey eyes sought hers, his head dipping to catch her gaze. “And I love you, and I would do _anything_ in my power to make it better.”

“Oh-“ she hiccupped, and then threw her arms around his neck, too weak to not let him crush her to his chest as she cried again, tears spilling out of her swollen eyes. Julian gathered her to him easily, familiar now with her body’s planes and angles. He tucked his head over the top of hers, dropping sweet kisses to her hair, and stayed there until Nurlan cried herself out to exhaustion, only sniffling faintly onto his half-unbuttoned sleep shirt, her eyes drooping shut against the comforting sleep-and-aftershave scent of his skin. “I’d love nothing more than to let you sleep, Nurlan,” he began ruefully, nuzzling against her in apology, “but I ah, need to take care of you. You aren’t ill, are you?” She made a noise of refusal deep in her throat, reluctantly pulling away from him to let him touch her forehead with the back of his hand. In the dark and the moonlight, his smile was faint. Nurlan snapped her fingers, once, and the candle on the tabletop flickered to life.

Grey eyes darted warily to the flame, and he jumped just a little, but his smile widened. “Ah, there you are, the very light of my life, Nurlan Samal.” Despite herself, her heart squeezed and she let out a wet little laugh. Julian tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering there. “This was the usual, yes?” He asked, frowning again. “The ah, smoker’s cough, again?” Nurlan nodded shakily, ashamed. It was, really. Now that it’s passed, she realized it wasn’t all that much worse than her usual coughing spells- except for how it’d spooked her and winded her and made her feel gross and like a failure. She nodded again, sighing when he threaded his fingers under her chin and pressed a soft, barely-there kiss to her lips. “We’ll check up again at the clinic tomorrow, just to put your mind at ease. But for now-“ he looked around, brow furrowed in thought. “Let me get you something for your throat. One to ten, how much does it hurt right now, darling?”

She took a moment to take stock. “Seven, maybe eight,” she croaked, wincing. He hummed. “Something stronger than tea, then. Would you be alright ‘til I fetch it?” She nodded, shrugging and leaning back against the couch. “Alright,” he kissed her forehead once, twice for good measure before he rose, making off to his small study in the corner. She could hear him putter around, mumbling to himself, and she let herself sink into the sounds of having him near, and tried not to start crying all over again at the thought that he’d always, _always_ help her, no matter how far she’d gone and how many mistakes she’d made. She whizzed past that thought before it could pull her down into another spiral, and Julian was there, a small vial in his hand filled with a familiar-smelling bright red tonic. “For the soreness and the pain,” he explained, waiting patiently to see if she had the energy to press on it, to ask more questions. She didn’t, so she simply shrugged again, taking it from his hands and wrinkling her nose at the sharp chemical scent of it. He chuckled, patting her thigh. “I’m sorry, dearest. It smells awful, likely uh, tastes awful too,” he said sheepishly, “ _And_ get you a little drowsy, though not terribly so.” She sniffed snot back up her nose and smiled at him. “’sokay,” she said. “It’s supposed to be medicine.” As if to emphasize her point, Nurlan brought the vial to her lips and downed the liquid in one shot.

Ugh. She loved him, but she couldn’t help the grimace that contorted her face at the bitterness. It was like drinking the cleaning liquid she used back at the inn, or her stage makeup in liquid form.

Julian only laughed, patting her sympathetically. “Luckily for you, I do come bearing presents.”

His other hand disappeared down the pocket of his pants, coming back up with a small packet- likely from their shared stash of inn-made sugar candy. He ripped open the packet, picking one between his fingers and holding it up to her. Nurlan closed her lips around the candy- oh they just get better with age. The sweetness exploded on her tongue, washing away the medicine’s bitterness in seconds. Julian held up another one, and she shook her head fondly, her heart aching with how much she loved him, and patted a spot next to her on the couch. “ _You’re_ the present, Julian.” She sighed as a strong arm wrapped around her waist, the other coming back up to feed her more sweet, his face flushed from the compliment.

“What do you need now, precious?” he asked. “Tea? Warm water, perhaps?”

“Just you, handsome.” She turned to lay a kiss to his shoulder, smiling as he blushed deeper.

“Convenient.” He quipped. “You have me, Nurlan. All of me. Always.” He spoke the words into her hair, his breath warm. Tears burned behind Nurlan’s eyelids again. “I thought I was going to die,” she said slowly, her voice cracking. She drew in a shaky breath as Julian squeezed her impossibly tight, almost instinctively, as though shielding her from the thought and its meaning with everything he had. “Oh, _darling_ ,” his voice was trembling again, and Nurlan’s heart broke a little, “why did you not wake me up? I know I tend to sleep through, ah, anything, but I’d be there for you, I _want_ to, have I not-“

“Julian,” she silenced him before he could work himself into a frenzy, a firm hand on his knee. “I know you’d be there, I just-“ she took a deep breath. She didn’t want him to take _this,_ of all things, upon himself. “Guess I felt like I’ve let you down. Which I have,” she ignored his noise of protest, “Like I shouldn’t ask for your help when it’s my fault. I’m being childish. I should’ve quit.”

“What?” He sounded shocked. “Darling, you’ve _never_ let me down, _ever._ I only, oh Nurlan-“ he turned them around to face her again, grey eyes searching her face frantically. “I would never _judge_ you for needing me. Ever. Haven’t you come through for me, time and time and _time_ again, be it my fault or anyone else’s?”

She gulped, nodding. He didn’t wait for an answer. “If you need me, _when_ you need me, I’m here, dearest, isn’t that all?”

“Y-yeah, I know,” she whimpered, feeling stupider by the second. Julian shushed her, wiping away a stray tear with streaks of smudged as hell kohl. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

He kissed her again, softly, to silence her. “No need to be.” He said firmly. “I was only reminding you, my love. And besides,” he frowned, “I won’t lie and say that it isn’t for the best that you quit smoking,” she flinched, and he shook his head, “but you shouldn’t be this hard on yourself, Nurlan.”

“But-“

“You’re uh, underestimating the force of that habit. You see-“ he let her go, scooting back a little, pausing to gather his thoughts. “You’ve been smoking since you were- what, a teenager?” Nurlan sniffed in assent, casting her eyes down. “It’s been with you for so long that it became a part of you, and the body, ah, the body remembers, and it needs. It becomes less of an- an indulgence and more of a habit, and then it becomes a hunger, no different from what we feel when we haven’t had a few meals in a row, when we haven’t had enough water on a hot summer’s day.” He was gesturing with his hands now, his eyes open and eager. “And the body often learns to hunger for uh, for what isn’t the best for it.”

Nurlan thought back to it, the wanting deep in her bones, how she could never say no to it- hell, she wouldn’t say not it _now._ She wanted, no, _needed_ to light up, even now, just like she did when she’d just coughed her life force out, just like every other time she’d tried to quit or cut back. All of a sudden, she was scared again. She wanted to stop coughing, she wanted to stop feeling this terror, she wanted the stains on her lips and teeth to disappear.

“But I want to stop, Julian,” she said hopelessly, slumping towards him in a fit of despair. He caught her, again, as he always did.

“Oh but you could, darling,” he replied, so sincere it made her heart smart. “You _could._ You’ve been through hells of different kinds, you’ve lived and loved and grown, you’ve ha! Chased me away from my own bad habits, and I’ve stood by your side while you saved the world, haven’t I? There’s nothing you couldn’t do, Nurlan. _Nothing._ ”

“But-“

“I only meant to say that it takes a lot to quit. And if you slip up, if you need help or reassurance or it hurts you or frustrates you, oh my dear-“ he held her tighter as she began to cry again, in love and relief and exhaustion. “ _Please_ do not torment yourself this way, and please do not think any lesser of yourself or by gods,” a desperate kiss to a spot behind her ear, “that you _deserve_ pain, in any capacity, or that _I_ would think any less of you. I want nothing more than to be beside you, Nurlan, through the storm and the calm and I will be, do you hear me? I will be. I promise you.”

Nurlan rubbed at her tired, tired eyes, her mind buzzing but calmer, the fear completely banished from her in a way that only Julian could. She pressed her own promise to his lips, tasting her own tears against his mouth and pulling back. “I need help,” she admitted, _finally._ “Don’t think I can do it on my own.”

Julian beamed at her as though she’d just saved the world again. “And help you will have, my love. We’ll ah, figure out a plan, track down whatever approaches work- whatever’s worked with the grand total of the two pirates who’d wanted to put away their pipe to retain a working lung-“ he laughed, shaking his head fondly at the memory, and then the smile fell with the sound. “I’m sorry, Nurlan, I didn’t know you were in so much grief, I should’ve-“

She clicked her tongue, climbing onto his lap to get a better grip on him. “I should’ve asked. You know _I_ have trouble noticing when _I’m_ in grief,” she said wryly, making him chuckle in reply.

_And it’s that pride of yours, Nur. Mama’s voice in her ear. It’s that damned pride, that insistence that you’ll see everything through when you don’t have to._

Not a word of this to her, or she’ll never let her hear the end of it.

“Could you come back to bed now, my love?” Julian asked her gently. “We could talk of it all again in the morning, if you’d like to, when you’re better-rested.” With the collar of his sleep shirt he wiped away the kohl streaking down her face. Nurlan toyed absently with the deep red hairs on his chest before she nodded, yawning, snuffing out the candle with another snap of her fingers.

Later, cuddled up in bed with Julian’s legs trapped between her leg and stump, his arms on her stomach, his head in the crook of her neck, he said, “I think I’ll quit too, with you, darling.”

“Julian,” she grumbled. “You’re not like me. Don’t have to skimp out on an indulgence just for my sake.“

He scoffed good-naturedly. “I have my fair share of vices- some a tad bit healthier than that,” she could feel his smirk against her skin. “In all honesty, I should have kicked the habit a while ago. Neither of us are uh, getting any younger.”

Nurlan snorted. “You sound like a grandpa. You still have a year to go before you turn forty.”

“Alas,” he agreed, “and what a milestone that would be, but it’s never too early to start, mm, reeling back the ah, more unnecessary indulgences in favour of _better_ ones,” a playful squeeze to her thigh, making Nurlan giggle, swatting him lightly with the back of her hand.

“And besides, my love,” he nipped lightly at her neck, and she could just _feel_ that unbearably rougish grin spread across his face. “We’ve got _more_ than enough fire and smoke between the both of us, don’t you think?”

Nurlan laughed outright, and he laughed right along with her before settling back against her, and cradling both her warm hands in his perpetually cold ones, the white of his skin paler against the brown of hers, but oh-

Oh, they _did._

**Author's Note:**

> Come get y'alls emotional support Loving Red-Haired Doctor Husband.  
> Title inspired by "Medicine" by Daughter
> 
> Quitting's tough, and an uphill battle, and if you're struggling, know that I believe in you.
> 
> Tumblr: AtypicalAcademic


End file.
